


No Way Out (But I'm Going Out With You)

by flipflop_diva



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst, Captivity, Established Relationship, F/M, First Time, Kissing, Tributes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:06:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26567776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/pseuds/flipflop_diva
Summary: It had to have been past two in the morning when he felt the bed shift softly next to him.He didn’t move to touch her, but he whispered softly, “If they catch you in here, there’s no telling what they might do.”Natasha rolled her eyes. “They’re throwing us in an arena tomorrow to watch us kill each other,” she said dryly. “What more can do they do?”
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41
Collections: Darkest Night 2020





	No Way Out (But I'm Going Out With You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Corina (CorinaLannister)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorinaLannister/gifts).



It had to have been past two in the morning when he felt the bed shift softly next to him. His heart sped up even as the sweet smell of dried flowers and cinnamon drifted over him.

He opened his eyes to peer into another pair of eyes staring right back at him — eyes that were defiant but soft, fierce but kind.

He didn’t move to touch her, but he whispered softly, “If they catch you in here, there’s no telling what they might do.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “They’re throwing us in an arena tomorrow to watch us kill each other,” she said dryly. “What more can do they do?”

She had a point, Steve knew that, but he couldn’t help the fear in his heart. What more could they do? Not give her the batons that were her best weapon. His heart clenched thinking about Nat being in that arena defenseless.

He sat up and shook his head to clear out the thoughts. She wasn’t defenseless, even if she didn’t have a single weapon. She was the best fighter in their whole district. And he knew, from the whispers and the looks and by what their mentor, Phil, didn’t tell them in actual words, that Natasha was also the odds-on favorite to win this year’s Hunger Games.

His heart clenched again thinking what that meant. He wanted her to win — of course he did. He wanted her to live, but he wasn’t stupid. He had heard the stories of the victors who were forced by the Capitol to give themselves to any interested party for years and years afterward, as a way to repay the Capitol for not killing them. He didn’t want that for her either. But maybe Phil could help her get out of it. After all, he was a victor and he had somehow managed to get away from the Capitol once the games had ended.

A soft hand touched his cheek, making him jump. 

“Hey,” she said quietly. She had sat up too and was now sitting with her legs folded beneath her. “Where were you?”

“Just in my head,” he told her.

“That’s a scary place to be,” she teased. He could see her smirk even in the dark.

“These days it is,” he said. 

Natasha’s fingers brushed over his cheek again, and then he saw her scoot closer and raise herself up, her lips gliding over his.

“The only thing we can do now is win,” she told him. “Then we’ll figure the rest out.”

“Only one of us can win, Nat.”

Her fingers moved up into his hair. “I told you to let me worry about that,” she whispered.

She sounded so confident. So sure. Steve’s heart clenched for the third time, trying to figure out what she had in mind. It couldn’t be good. None of this was good. 

He still wasn’t convinced that their names being drawn was due to simple bad luck. He and Natasha had been friends for years, but he’d had a crush on her for much longer, ever since they were little kids and they would pretend to be superheroes, along with Natasha’s older brother, Clint, Steve’s younger brother, Bucky, and their friends Bruce and Tony. He used to dream about what it would be like to actually be with her, but it hadn’t been until the night before the Reaping that he finally confessed to her that he was in love with her.

She had smiled at him and then kissed him, and he had been the happiest he had ever been. Twelve hours later, their names had been drawn, and now one of them was supposed to kill the other or watch the other be killed by any of the twenty-two tributes who would be in the arena with them. It made him want to scream and rage against whatever unfairness — or whoever — had caused this.

Natasha’s fingers had drifted downward and were now tugging on the ends of his hair, causing tiny stings of pain at every yank.

“Natasha,” he whispered.

She stopping tugging on his hair and instead moved her hands to his shoulders, bringing her face down so she could stare directly into his eyes. She looked focused and intense, and terrified and unsure, all at the same time. It was almost like all the confidence of a few moments ago had faded away.

“I don’t want to die without knowing what it’s like,” she whispered.

“What it’s like?” He looked at her in confusion.

“To have sex,” she clarified. Then a beat later, “With you.”

He gulped a lungful of air. His mouth felt dry. She was still staring at him, but now her eyes were pleading. Somewhere in his mind, he heard his brother, “You have a beautiful girl who wants to be with you. When are you ever going to get a chance like that again?”

Maybe never. He might be dead in a few days. Or a day.

Or maybe before morning if they caught them.

But maybe that would be better.

But not if she has a chance to live.

Natasha’s lips were on his before he realized. “Stop thinking,” she murmured against them. Her hands dropped to the bottom of his sleep shirt, tugging it upward.

No, they wouldn’t kill them. They would just make it harder for them in the arena. But Natasha was still the favorite. She had all the attention and all of the chatter. They might kill him, but they wouldn’t kill her. 

He didn’t know how he knew, but he did.

He made up his mind, lifting his arms and letting her get the shirt off him. She trailed her fingers down his chest, and then smiled up at him.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” she said.

He pulled her to him, kissing her hard on the lips before trailing his fingers down her arms, feeling her beneath this touch, all bone and muscle and perfect. He found the bottom of her night shirt and pulled it upward. She lifted her hands above her head, and he shoved her shirt up and off, letting it fall on to the pillow behind her. 

She wasn’t wearing a bra, and he found himself staring at her chest. 

“You can touch me,” she said. 

He reached out, his fingers gliding over the perfect mounds of flesh. His index fingers traced over her nipples, and he heard her gasp.

“Yes. Like that,” she said, and Steve traced over her nipples again. 

They kissed as they touched each other, exploring each other’s bodies, stopping only to get his boxers off and her sleep shorts, leaving her just in her underwear.

He stared down at her, almost naked before him, her red hair fanned out on the bed, and felt like the luckiest and the unluckiest person in the world, all at the same time.

She reached up to cup his face in her hands. Her eyes were seemed to peer into his soul.

“If this is my last night on earth,” Natasha whispered, “I’m glad I’m spending it with you.”

Steve didn’t say anything. He wanted to — he wanted to tell her so many things — but his mouth wouldn’t work, his voice wouldn’t come out. It was like the words were stuck in his throat, but as he kissed her back and then helped her out of her underwear, he hoped she knew the truth: He was going to do anything he possibly could to make sure that she, at least, got out of this alive. He was going to make sure Natasha won the Hunger Games.


End file.
